


ocean

by pq2



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: M/M, and the thoughts and fear of being perceived by others, ft. goro and yusuke’s different brands of mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pq2/pseuds/pq2
Summary: yusuke tries to draw akechi from afar, however, he has more depth than simply paper and pencil can capture
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kitagawa Yusuke
Kudos: 7





	ocean

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant for a friend! it got a little out of hand, but it’s short

There were some things a pencil could not capture on the space of paper- there was no depth, and there was no texture to layer over or other coats of paint. As much as you could shade away— cross-hatch, blend in the little corners where shadow and light touched-  
these thoughts possessed him as he held the pencil, tapping it once, twice, to a sheet of paper on a pad that had been erased and redone more times than he count count. No matter how hard he tried capturing the expression he saw, he could not. Graphite on worn paper didn’t mix well, and no matter how hard he tried, his hand betrayed the smile he saw and drew a curl in the lips that appeared more so a scowl- a frown? rather than curled in happiness. However, as many times he tried- there was a certain rightness in the former.  
the light strokes of sketches gave way to pressure, heavy marks of chalky grey that tried to replicate the depth he saw- the murky waters that were hidden by the reflective surface. Muted charcoal evolved to shiny jet-blacks, and with it, old sketches of smiling figures were soon covered by its near-inky embrace.  
The eyes are what bothered him the most, though.  
They seemed deeper than he could fathom, as deep as an ocean could reach, and he was lost in them. Lost for they held things that he- the sailor- could only peer into, and lost as they were all consuming in a way that enveloped him in cool waters.  
He hasn’t realized how much time he was spending on those eyes— until other curious pairs of color and life off of paper looked over at the boy and his endeavors.  
He was nearly done- and with it, his subject of interest had lifted from a farther seat, seemingly chatting with another at the café, but he couldn’t truly pay attention. He was still lost at sea, and that sea began to shift.  
As it turned to leave, the sea gave a glance at its admirer, and perhaps more so the one that yearned to understand what lurked beneath. The ocean saw the strokes of pencil on paper, and the ocean made an expression that was covered under a thousand clouds and a thousand layers of fog. However, the sailor was intuitive, and could see beyond them. 

The sea was not meant to be known. 

It turned and headed off with the soft close of a door in its wake, and the sailor was left with a pencil in hand and a paper on a table. He hadn’t realized how he clenched the pencil in that moment’s glance, or perhaps the soft flush that accompanied his face in his deep thought.  
He put the pencil down and wiped stray shavings from his hands, and in those moments to himself, wondered the experience of being known, and to know another.


End file.
